musings about life as a late-start artist

The above was painted from memory (atypical for me). I wanted to picture my last visit to the beach in Oceanside, CA but not a literal picture. On July 27, 2007 I wasn’t wearing this outfit nor did I have this hat and I was there with my 2 kids; however, I might have looked into the horizon or the sky and wondered what was going to happen now. We were moving to KY rather against our will; events had intervened that made it necessary and we wouldn’t be making our annual end-of-the-school-year trip to the beach anymore. My native Californian heart was heavy and I didn’t think I’d ever get over the loss…

But it’s been 10 years! I’ve accomplished a LOT in those years with paintings, exhibitions, travelling outside the immediate area, learning more technological stuff – more than I did in CA where I felt complacent. My attitude has changed and this one shift has been a game changer; negativity and a poor self image simply will not do. I sometimes do find myself wishing I could get a natural pedicure of sorts from walking on the beach but I have a new life and a new attitude now and I can’t go backwards.

Here’s a snapshot of a couple of my students at the local art and craft store working on a landscape painting. I love seeing a person gain confidence through some creative activity! And that thought spun off into this: what do artists like to collect? What captivates a person (especially someone involved with creating images) to obtain another’s work?

My other part-time job is painting instructor at one of the local arts and crafts stores. I had a student a few nights ago who, in the course of conversation, said that people who have nothing give of themselves (or words to that effect). Her statement struck me into considering something else.

A few days before that class, I volunteered to help serve lunch at the community kitchen. I chopped fruit, then served up the resultant fruit salad. I didn’t look at the people I was serving, mainly because I wanted the fruit salad to land on tray and not the counter or the floor. But I was also thinking of my Mexican grandmother who counseled to do what needed to be done and don’t look at who you’re helping – that is, don’t judge – and don’t worry about who’s watching you (don’t tally up brownie points). And anyway, I felt I had nothing to give but my time, which is why I was there.

Something happened to me on the inside while just doing what needed to be done. Years ago, I wrote a kind of credo that stated I had found my wealth in no thing. Nothing. What do I really have?

About a week ago, I made pancakes for the family (yes, it happens sometimes). After I ate, I cleaned up like I remembered my dad doing after he finished baking. As the goodies baked – usually oatmeal cookies for our school lunches – he’d put the dry ingredients away and wash the dishes (no dishwasher in my childhood home), leaving the kitchen clear and ready for the next meal-making adventure.

What’s that got to do with studio practice? Well, it got me to thinking: what if I put things away when I finished using them – I mean more than just putting some plastic wrap on my palette and turning off the lights? What if I spent more time cleaning or clearing a little every time I went to the studio? Wouldn’t it be easier to start new projects and even create more space to dream?

And all those little things I’ve acquired over the years that just take up space – do I really need them? Earlier this summer, I donated a lot of stuff and I have more things I want to clear out of my closet. But I want to get my studio under some kind of control – it’s vital to have a clear space for the next adventure.

Just about every artist I’ve ever known has a day job. Mine is part-time instructor in Art History and Art appreciation plus one art history course online. Last semester, it seemed that I spent most of my time – in and out of the classroom – making sure that everything worked which brings me to technology. Last year, I heard the term “digital immigrant” for the first time; it describes those folks born during the baby boom and earlier who aren’t fluent in digital literacy. Until rather recently, I was digi-phobic; I saw the world around me change but was reluctant to change with it. Then I started teaching lecture classes and so much depended on my having some fluency that I realized I needed to learn more than just some minor word processing. It seemed overwhelming until I remembered two things: first, take small bites and second, I reminded myself “If I don’t know, I’ll find out.” There’s so much information available on the Internet, it’s a great time to be alive!

I’ve always been a fairly quiet person. One on one meetings always felt more genuine, but it helped to know that individual rather well already. True, as a college instructor I’d meet a new crop of faces every semester, yet outside that setting I wasn’t very comfortable. As I’ve gotten older, it’s become imperative to reach out more often…how else could I assert myself as an artist in the community? Well, here’s a big help, both in making my presence known and for getting me to talk to people: the city of Paducah is hosting Meet the Artists 2017 in the historic City Hall building on Thursday, June 15 from 4:30 – 8:30 pm. Looking forward to meeting and greeting!

I’ve loved writing for a long while but painting always wins out; maybe there’s something about telling a story without using the written word. When I worked on this piece, I knew only that I wanted to relay my view of the pond we share with our neighbors. It was late fall when I worked on this canvas; the pond was half frozen and some of the invasive vegetation was locked in ice while the stuff near the shore was still thriving. As I painted, I thought of people suffering from some terminal and/or degenerative illness and those close to them who can only watch helplessly…like the vegetation in the pond, the leaves near the shore are vibrant but related to the fading leaves near the center of the water body. The softened shadows and reflections add to the uncertainty of the watch.

I recently spent a few glorious days in Golden, Colorado attending an artist business conference. It was a rich and fulfilling time away; it offered time to refresh and reconsider…to refill the well, as an elementary school teacher friend once told me. I met and befriended many other artists from around the country and beyond; we shared many ideas, plans, suggestions and considered new marketing strategies. There are many things I’m grateful for, some incredible breakthroughs, but the one that really moved me was one from artist Lucy Yanagida: after looking at my website and noting all the images of water and rocks, she reminded me that in Jungian analysis, water always represented “a loosening.” Indeed. More to come…

These late summer/early fall days are getting filled with good things. On Aug. 25, there’s the opening reception for the Paducah School of Art and Design Faculty Exhibition. On Sept. 10 there’s Art in the Vineyard, an annual event put on by the Art Guild of Paducah. And shortly after that on Sept. 15, there’s Meet the Artists, the second annual event where local artists show their work and meet and greet the public.

Each one will be a chance for me to step out of my comfort zone. My natural tendency is to be contemplative; my parents were sometimes amazed that I could be entertained for hours just by looking at an old Sears catalog (they didn’t realize I was sharpening my observation skills; I didn’t know that then either). But life goes on, things change, habits must change too. I used to fear meeting others for the first time – not anymore! There’s too much to be missed when one hides.

Trio 3 has begun a new life with a new family. There’s something very satisfying (other than the monetary aspect) about having one’s art collected. The value of art is often reduced to the dollar value since we are inundated with news of how much a piece went for at auction. But the real value of art is more about how it makes us feel. When I created Trio 3 and its roomates 1 and 2, I reveled in the flow of the cool colors punctuated with a few drops of copper colored acrylic ink; the freedom reminded me of both my first experience swimming and my first experience painting in grade school. The new owner of Trio 3 might have seen something different or similar but from another perspective. I love this part of art almost as much as making the work…which reminds me I need to get back into the studio!